Seeking Grace
by Aria Rayn
Summary: Sequel to The Devil You Know. Set directly after the episode Grace in season seven. Summary: it's been seven years and Carter's nowhere closer to knowing her own heart.
1. Chapter 1

Major Carter stared at herself in the mirror. She was white, deathly white. Of course, when one spent two weeks in the infirmary after four consecutive days with a concussion on an abandoned ship, one tended to be a bit pale.

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"_Alright, Carter, on your feet, let's go."_

_Well, he finally showed up. Carter wondered when he'd come to give her her "pep talk". Of course, Daniel and Teal'c had sucked, both only increasing her headache. "You MUST stay awake." "Well, I'm not so much me as I am YOU." – God, was she really that bad? She would remember to loosen up and chill if – WHEN she got out of this._

"_I was wondering when you were gonna show up," she said, freely ignoring his order and not feeling one bit guilty about it. And there wasn't so much as a "sir" in there – she was glad this was, well – HER she was talking to, and not Real O'Neill. Oh, headache…_

"_You just going to sit there?" the dark form of her CO asked, hands in his pocket nonchalantly. He was in civvies – how was it possible that he – or at least the REAL Colonel O'Neill – did NOT know how hot he was in civvies?_

"_Too tired, sir."_

_The…Unreal O'Neill – hey, cool, that rhymed! – erm… - walked over and sat down tantalizingly slowly. "Samaaaantha," he growled slowly, a smirk on his lips. "I'm a figment of your imagination; you're gonna call me SIR?"_

"_Sorry, force of habit…"_

"_So, you gonna save yourself or what?" he asked._

"_I've tried."_

"_So you just giving up?"_

"_I don't know what else to do." If she weren't about to fall into an endless abyss of eternal slumber – in Jack-talk, fall asleep and die – she'd be more irritated._

"_You'll think of something" O'Neill said confidently. He had that grin, that full smile of confidence in his eyes that spoke volumes more than a simple twist of the lips. The smile that warmed her heart…whoa, focus, Carter!_

"_Came to give me a pep talk?" she asked bitterly._

"_That's what friends are for," he said _

_Major Carter snorted softly. "Friends."_

"_Hey, this is YOU talkin' here, might as well be honest."_

_She sighed. They were more than friends – much more. And in her own little fantasy world – and she hoped in his, too – there wasn't a damned thing stopping them from being WAY way more than friends. _

"_What if I quit the Air Force?" she asked. "Would that change anything? Or is that just an excuse?"_

"_I would never ask you to give up your career," the Unreal O'Neill had said next._

"_Because you don't feel anything for me?"_

"_Carter…" he said lowly._

_She briefly debated replying snidely, "You're a figment of my imagination and you're gonna call me Carter?" but thought against it. "I'd let you go right now if I knew," she declared boldly, a sickly little bundle of fear and sadness forming in her stomach. What if he said he didn't? Even an Unreal O'Neill had to have something in common with Real O'Neill, right? …_

"_That easy?" Unreal O'Neill asked…sadly, definitely sadly._

_Sam felt a tear prickle at the corner of each eye. "I never said it would be easy." And it wouldn't. Because it would hurt like hell…_

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How did she get caught up in this madness? She, Major Carter, afraid of her own heart? Or, at least that's what Unreal Dad had told her. And she was very good at picturing his criticism, even after all these years of newfound closeness between them. The scar of his disapproval and of her whole family in general was just too vivid, too easy to spot among all her other emotional scars. That particular scar was second-biggest only to Hansen…

…Hansen. That bastard. As she knew she would, she was no longer scared of him, or of the nightmares he had provoked. She would have a repeat of the nightmare every once in a while, but it was maybe…one night out of a few years of nightmare-less nights? At least that nightmare, anyway. But even on the rare occasion she did have a repeat, when the nightmare dwindled away, she didn't wake up screaming at 0220, and certainly didn't wake up at 0220 at all. It was like everything about him was simply a blank slate; the memory was there, the scar was there, but she felt nothing for it, except a twinge of regret.

If she'd just gone and killed him, just hunted him down instead of getting distracted by Colonel O'Neill, he wouldn't have killed Franks. He wouldn't have been able to hurt the cave dwellers or his team. Franks was dead and Connor was still very much angry at the loss of his friend – they learned long ago to never say Hansen's name in his presence; after all these years, she assumed the pain had numbed for him as it had for her, but even old nightmares could be reborn, as she had learned when Hansen joined the SGC.

Major Carter continued to stare at herself in the mirror. Could she even trust her own mind? Unreal Dad was telling her she had to let go of what was holding her back from love, that by setting her sights on what was unattainable, she was keeping herself from ever getting hurt. How true had he…she? …been?

Sure, she hadn't exactly been introduced to many successful relationships, what with the broken family she'd had after her mom's death, the violent relationship she'd had with Hansen…was she really just too scared to give having a life a second shot? She thought briefly about Pete, the cop her brother had recently told her about in his last phone call, just before she'd set off on the Prometheus. There was something fishy about the way Mark had hinted at him; it was a setup. She, Major Carter, did NOT like being set up. Not in anything, especially relationships.

Sure, Pete sounded like a nice guy, but…would he be anywhere near as…there were too many adjectives she could use to describe how she felt…inappropriately…for her CO.

Carter sighed and leaned against the sink, now glaring at the mirror. "Isn't it bad enough that I have the craziest, most insane, dangerous – okay, so it's still great – wild job in the world? Does my love life have to be just as complicated?" Give her a naquadah reactor and 70 seconds to disarm it before the entire mountain and she'd do it – give her a puzzle involving romantic relationships and she'd take months to finish it.

Tossed between wishing she could use the Stargate to travel back in time to be a Captain again, and wanting to stay firmly where she was, Carter could see no fairness in anything. Either she'd be a petrified Captain or an emotionally drained Major, with the world's fate meanwhile resting in the sole hands of SG-1 and the SGC.

Carter slammed her fist on the sink and turned to go back into her bedroom to get some shuteye, throwing one last glare at her reflection in the mirror. Somehow, she felt as though her reflection were mocking her, as though to say, "Ha, ha! You have a crappy life and I DON'T!"

Maybe she _was_ insane; the reflection was nothing but an image of herself. It had no brain, heart, or feelings.

So why did it feel like it got the better end of the bargain?


	2. Chapter 2

**Firstly, I'd like to apologize for such long update intervals to all of you. Oh, the joys of starting school (and more specifically, high school. I have fallen in love with LOCKER lockers – you know, not the dinky boxes used for PE, actual locker lockers?). Anywho:) I'm trying.**

**And to clarify, in this sequel, Sam never met Pete. Yay! claps cheerfully**

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Just as she was getting ready to walk out the door the following morning, the phone rang. Carter glared at it; wonderful. With her luck, it was probably Hammond telling her her clocks were three hours late, just to further her stress. Wasn't a massive headache enough?

Planning to take two extra strength Tylenols as soon as she got to the SGC, she picked up the phone, she forced herself to sound civil. "Carter."

"Do you _have_ to answer your home phone like that?" asked a voice disgustedly.

Major Carter caught her groan and swallowed it. "Mark…" she sighed, "now's not a good time. I have to leave for work."

"Okay. Just two minutes is all I'm asking!"

Carter checked her wristwatch. "You have two minutes."

"Look," he began, "Pete's a real good guy –"

"Mark," she interrupted, "if that's what you're calling me about, you're wasting your breath. I'm not dating anyone."

"Exactly! So I was thinking –"

"That doesn't mean I'm free for the taking, Mark!" Major Carter argued. "I'm not interested in dating anybody!" _Well, there's an exception to everything,_ she thought, picturing Ja – _the Colonel_, dang it! – in her mind. She was having a hard time thinking of him as purely her superior officer lately, especially with some rather NC-17 rated dreams she'd had… How she managed to look the man in the eye at all anymore surprised the daylights out of her!

"Sam, at least go out for a drink with him?" Mark pleaded.

"Mark, no. And the last time I checked my watch, you had one and a half minutes. Are you sure there aren't any _other_ suitable bachelors you have plans for, because if there are, spit them out now. I won't listen later."

She knew she was being harsh, but this was the last thing she wanted or needed. It hurt her head enough to trust her heart about Jack – _damn it, COLONEL O'NEILL_ – without listening to her brother's setup schemes.

There was a pause on the line. "I'm sorry to interrupt your morning, _Major_."

She opened her mouth to apologize only to hear a slam and a dial tone. Carter sighed, lowering the phone to its cradle, her eyes closed against the stress.

What a day, and it was only 0630.

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"Hey, Carter!" O'Neill said cheerfully as he strode into the briefing room with a bounce in his step. Carter winced at the volume.

"Hi sir," she replied weakly.

"How's the head?"

"Nail in the head feeling, sir," she said.

"Ah…" he said, a knowing, even sympathetic smile on his lips.

Daniel and Teal'c soon arrived for the briefing, and Sam tried to focus. It was going to be a long day…

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_Do you even know _why_ you like him?_ inquired her conscience as she took samples, Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c patrolling as usual. _Even love him?_ the said conscience added.

_Love?_

_Hey, this is you. Might as well be honest,_ said her conscience, echoing the illusions she'd had on the _Prometheus_.

Major Carter sighed. _If I had the time, I'd give you a written essay,_ she told her nagging conscience irritably.

_Then make a list,_ suggested her conscience.

Carter scooped more soil into a test tube. _Number one: He makes me laugh,_ she decided.

_Good, good, laughter is good._

_Number two: He makes me feel safe. Three: Even though he spent all those years in black ops, he still isn't a part of the lunatic fringe like…_ She shuddered. _…Hansen…_

_Good, good, not a lunatic. You're getting better at this love thing, _approved her conscience.

She snorted to herself. _Please. One word: regulations._

_And in the immortal words of Colonel Hot-Ass, "Screw the regs!" _said her conscience stubbornly.

_Call him that one more time and I swear…_ Carter was pining enough without her naughty conscience swooning in the back of her mind, none too inconspicuously.

"Carter, you almost done?"

_Even his voice is hot,_ murmured an extremely naughty conscience.

_Shut up!_ Major Carter hissed at herself. "Yes sir," she replied lightly.

"Good. Meet you back at the 'Gate, ETA thirty minutes."

"Yes sir, Carter out," she agreed, packing away her samples and wandering into the temple ruins to drag a very engrossed Daniel Jackson away. "Sir?" she said into her radio.

"Here, Carter. What's up?"

"Brace yourself for shrill screaming, sir. I'm approaching Daniel and am going to attempt to disconnect him from the temple writings," she said with a smirk, her inner, evil conscience nodded approvingly in her mind.

"Funny, Sam," Daniel said with a buzz of life from her radio.

"I do believe your attempts at humor are beginning to grow on me, Carter," said Colonel O'Neill approvingly. She couldn't tell if it was a smirk or a playful grin in his voice, so she decided to put that particular thought aside for the moment.

"Thank you sir," she said wryly. "I'm immensely overjoyed to know I am gaining the approval of the Master of Dry Jokes."

"Watch it, Carter," he said lightly in warning. She snorted and reached Daniel, who was packing notebooks and loose sheets of paper hurriedly in his pack with a look of wistful sadness.

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When the briefing and the post-mission checkup had finally both been checked off Major Carter's list, she drove home in silence, not wishing to be interrupted by the radio. She was contemplating the complicated topic that was her superior officer, Jack O'Neill. Still.

She sighed and again her conscience bombarded her with a friendly reminder of sorts: _Don't say you didn't warn yourself,_ it said pointedly. _You knew that, if given the time and appropriate settings, you could fall in love with him. You knew that ever since the Hansen incident. It was your choice not to do something about it, right, wrong, or different._

Major Carter muttered irritably, "What was I supposed to do? Resign? What was I supposed to _say_? Was I to walk up to him and say, 'Sir, I'd like to thank you for all your support through this difficult time. I'd also like to inform you that, to repay you, I've gone and gotten inappropriate feelings for you. Can I kiss you crazy now?' Was _that_ what I was supposed to have said?"

She pulled up to the sidewalk in front of her house and shut the motor off. It was nearing dusk; the brightness was fading from the skies and replacing it with a moody, purple-pink glow. Much like her mood.

Carter sighed one last time and gathered her things to bring into the house. She laid her purse, keys, and cell phone on the hall table and sorted through the mail she'd picked up on her way in.

"Junk, junk, junk…more junk!" Carter said shortly, irritated by her lack of a life. The best personal, not "I wanna sell you my crap" mail she ever got was birthday and Christmas cards from Mark and his family. Oh, and the annual lame birthday postcard from the dentist, featuring dancing teeth with party hats.

Of course, the most treasured cards she ever received were from Daniel, Teal'c, and Colonel O'Neill. Sam felt a little guilty at placing her team closer to her heart than Mark and her niece and nephew, but somehow SG-1 was a family in itself, a family that was beyond being simply a family – they had, cliché as it was to say, gone to hell and back together.

At first, receiving a card from Colonel O'Neill had been awkward, and she could tell he was uncomfortable, too. She remembered silently thinking the gods divine and false that she got a card for him along with Daniel and Teal'c, just in case. She and O'Neill had forcibly laughed it off, each claiming it was only to introduce Teal'c to the fine, Taur'i art of Christmas card-giving.

Major Carter smiled fondly at the memories. Her insides felt like they were both glowing with happiness and sickening with reality.

The Colonel wasn't hers, and it appeared that he never would be.


	3. Chapter 3

Major Carter plopped down at a seat in the commissary around 0900 for some coffee and jello. _Strange combination,_ she thought in mild surprise. She really did have a thing for combining two completely irrelevant things to suit her needs or fancies…

And sometimes she was too good at it. The Colonel and her job, for example. Two things she loved, that sometimes meshed well, and sometimes didn't. She was on the "didn't" side of the coin at the moment.

_If you really love him as much as you're claiming, _her conscience snapped shortly, _then why don't you stop moping around and DO something about it?_

Carter sighed. She knew the answer to that question all too well. There were too many "I can't"s on her part. "I can't ask him how he feels." "I can't quit my job!" "I can't risk my career." "I can't risk hurting myself doing this."

She was allowing some leeway for the last one, against her better judgment. She wasn't sure that, after Hansen, she could stand to get hurt again. Given, his was a different hurt, but the end would be the same: wounded heart, wounded pride, slim to none chances of a good night's sleep for a few months.

"Hey, what's up?"

Major Carter jumped at the sound of HIS voice. A certain Colonel Jack O'Neill sat across from her at the table, his trademark smile in place, with just a tad of concern flashing in his eyes.

"Nothing," she said with a deep sigh. She took a sip of her coffee.

"Doesn't look like nothing," he challenged.

Carter considered him for a moment. Not knowing how to respond, she just shook her head.

He, in turn, stared at her, too. A minute later, he closed his eyes and shrugged. Opening them a squint, he said, "Come with me. Bring your jello if you want."

She was puzzled. "Sir?"

O'Neill gave her a long, pointed look. She sucked in a deep breath and nodded in submission. "Yes sir," she said quietly, and got up from the table to follow his heels, trying _very_ hard to block out Naughty Conscience's smutty remarks about a certain CO's backside…

Before she knew it, they were in the parking lot. "C'mon, hop in," the Colonel gruffly said, moving around to the driver's side door of his pickup.

Confused, Major Carter continued to oblige. As she buckled her seat belt, she asked, "Where are we going, sir?"

"Doesn't matter," he said lightly with a dismissing wave of his hand.

"Oh."

O'Neill steered them away, his driving patient and collected. Carter started to wonder what he had in mind. After ten or so minutes of mindless driving, she finally said, "My brother called the other day."

She barely realized she'd spoken until he said, "Oh?"

Though slightly surprised, she took it in stride. "Yeah. We fought."

There was a pause. "About?"

"Pete Shanahan."

"Who?"

She clarified, "Mark's buddy in Denver."

"Oh." There was hesitation in his voice when he added, "Setup?"

"Completely and utterly a setup," she said, wincing at the disgusted tone that crept into her voice.

"So…that's…"

"Bad. Irritatingly, infuriatingly bad," she said shortly.

"Why?"

His question would've knocked her off her feet had she been standing. "Because," she stammered.

"Because…why?" he insisted to know.

_Why am I even telling him this?_ she asked her conscience irritably.

_Because he asked, because you love him, and because you desperately want him to tell you that you did the right thing, that he's glad you didn't go out with Petey – er, Pete._

_Oh._ "Because I'm not interested in other guys," she said.

"'Other'?" Colonel O'Neill prodded further, giving her a quizzical and amused look from the corner of his eyes.

Carter felt a scowl tugging at the ends of her lips. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Colonel, sir," she said, just barely keeping the iciness out of her voice. Her irritation surprised her; he was not, after all, who she was angry with. That person was primarily her, and Mark, a bit… But his questions (and the humor he was having at her expense) were pushing at her buttons.

O'Neill quirked an eyebrow at her; the amused look was still in place but he didn't respond.

What on earth was going through that big head of his? Carter couldn't understand. Was he _trying_ to get her to go out with Petey – erm, Peter Shanahan?

"I don't understand," she said quietly, staring at her fiddling hands. Colonel O'Neill gave her a studious look, and it seemed to be eternity before he replied.

"You have to get a life sometime, Carter."

Major Carter winced against her will. "What if it's not the life I want?" she asked, still staring at her hands.

"Don't try to confuse me, now," he joked. "You do it easily enough! But, seriously, who _wouldn't_ want to have a life? Come on, I'm sure Paul –"

"Pete."

"– isn't half as bad as you think he's going to be."

"I haven't even thought of Pete to be bad, or good!" Carter argued, exasperated. "Sir…I just don't want to. If I don't want to, why should I?"

O'Neill opened his mouth to reply, then shut it promptly – firmly. At the next stoplight, he did a U-turn and took them back to the SGC. "I'll be dropping you off, Major," he said, his voice all business. "I'll talk to you later."

He stopped and unlocked her door from the control consol on his left. Carter blinked, and unbuckled her seat belt. She was surprised at the iciness in his voice, but she point-blank refused to call him on it.

"Goodbye, sir," she said quietly. She was ultimately confused and a little hurt. Was this his way of telling her to move on, that whatever he felt for her before, he didn't feel for her now?


	4. Chapter 4

A Few Days Later

Major Carter had been the unlucky winner of a trip to Colonel O'Neill's home one bright and early morning. When he failed to show for the briefing – and answer the calls to his home phone, cell phone, and pager – SG-1 was sent to go hunting for him. Daniel and Teal'c had volunteered to search the base rather quickly, and she was left to pay his home a visit. She could only hope he wasn't there.

No such luck; his truck was parked in the driveway. He _had_ to be there.

She rang the doorbell once, and waited. There was no answer, and she rang again. Irritably, she knocked on the door and called, "Colonel? Colonel, it's me, Carter."

Not even the distinct sound of tiptoeing away caught her ear. Carter contemplated the possibility of using the emergency key her CO had given her as one of the team. Maybe he slipped in the shower and hit his head or something, and wasn't _able_ to answer the door or any calls?

That thought made the decision. She worriedly pulled out the key and unlocked the door, entering slowly. Despite her righteous cause, she still felt like an intruder.

"Colonel?" she called. There were no signs of activity in the living room or kitchen – the TV wasn't on, no dishes laying around. No Colonel O'Neill either.

She traveled down the hall towards the bathroom and bedrooms, her mind galloping through possible scenarios and her body tense. If the Colonel had been abducted, wouldn't there be signs of struggle? If he had left on his own, willingly, wouldn't he have told somebody?

The hall bathroom and single bedroom were empty, both as still and silent as the kitchen and living room. Just one more room to check, and then the yard, if necessary. Carter approached what had to be the master bedroom. The door was very much ajar and she needed only to give it a little push to allow her comfortable entrance. But the sight she saw within the room denied her any comfort.

Clothes lay rudely scattered on the floor, obviously ripped off impetuously, but for what reason? (She did not want to contemplate the obvious possibility.) The sheets on the bed were rumpled and array; there lay the Colonel, buried to the neck in them except for his legs from the knee down.

He seemed to be the only one in the bed. With a quiet sigh of relief, Major Carter approached the bed smartly, ignoring the clothes on the floor that she was walking on. She shook O'Neill's shoulder, and whispered vehemently, "Colonel!"

Horrified, she realized she had spoken far too soon, for there were _two_ people buried to the neck in bedcovers.

_Please don't wake up! PLEASE don't wake up!_ her mind screamed. She stood there, frozen, as O'Neill rolled over, eyes creaking open with a classic "oh fer cryin' out loud, what now?" look on his face. In a flash his eyes opened wide at the sight of her.

"Carter?" he said hoarsely, obviously trying to keep the shock from his voice – and failing.

Major Carter was somewhat aware that her mouth was moving, but the only sounds she heard were the screaming in her mind. She was sure she wasn't doing that out loud, right? _Right?_ She stopped, pleasing herself by shocking herself into acuteness, and took control of herself. In seconds she fed herself information: she had not said anything yet, screaming or otherwise. Colonel O'Neill was fine, but naked in bed with a woman.

Suddenly, loathing and hatred hit her like lightning. It was all coming together; the confusing conversation about Pete, abruptly dropping her off. He was trying to get rid of her. But he didn't have to get rid of her to sleep with whoever was under those sheets. It hit her: Guilt. He was feeling guilty – why he was feeling guilty for dating that woman, she didn't know – but if she dated Peter Shanahan, then he wouldn't need to feel sorry about dating someone, too.

"You _bastard_!" she shouted, her anger making her forget herself.

"Carter," he said quickly, as his lady friend woke up, "just let me explain."

"Explain what?" she demanded. "The _real_ reason why you want me to date Pete? Or why you couldn't have at least given me the courtesy – the _respect_ of letting me know you don't give a damn about me, instead of letting me find out!"

"Jack, what's going on?" the nameless woman demanded, too, equally angry, if that was possible.

Quietly, he murmured to her, "Cheryl, you should leave. You shouldn't have to see this."

"You're damned right I shouldn't have to," she snapped. "Unfortunately, I'm as naked as the day I was born and I don't have my car. I won't get dressed in front of _her_, or _you_, for that matter, you asshole."

Fury boiled harder. Carter wasn't the "_her_" – it was _that woman_ that was intruding! It was she, _Major Carter_, who had been betrayed!

"I'll get you a cab," he said. He dismantled the sheet that was most solid in color and texture – the less see-through – and covered himself as he stood. "You don't need to pay."

"I should be getting a freaking limo for this," she snarled. "I'm not some cheap screw you can get as a replacement for whoever _she_ is."

"You're right. I'm sorry, Cheryl, I –"

Carter whirled around and fled, the anger bitter in her mouth and body. Her chest felt heavy with the angry and betrayal, but she stalked off, just the same, ignoring Colonel O'Neill's calls of, "Carter! Wait! Carter!"

"_Sam!_"

Her name in his cry stopped her cold. "How dare you?" she hissed, turning to him. His guilt- and worry-filled eyes did not call her anger and pain to cease. "How dare you use that on me now? You want to replace me? You want me gone? Fine! Take a good look at me now, _Colonel_, because this is the last of me you'll ever see!"

She turned and ran, out the door, to her car. The man, of course, tried to follow, but tripped over the sheet he held around his waist. It wasn't possible for her to get it in gear any quicker; by the time he had pulled the sheet from under his feet, she was driving down the street.

The minute she turned the corner, her conscience attacked her. "What was I _thinking_?" she shrieked suddenly. "I'm _resigning_ because of _him_? What the _hell_ was I _thinking_?" She took several deep breaths. _It's okay,_ she thought to herself. _You haven't _done_ anything yet. So just don't resign. If he confronts you on it, just act like it was your plan all along to frighten him._

But how could she continue working with him after this? And what about Daniel and Teal'c? They were the closest thing to a family she had, except for Dad, and if she was honest, O'Neill was, too. Damn it, after what he said and did, she still loved him.

_DAMN it._


	5. Chapter 5

_You have 12 new messages from 234-4526 Colonel Oneill_

Beep.

"Carter? – Sam? Are you there? Please pick up."

Beep.

"Sam, please, talk to me. Let me explain… Please."

Beep.

"Okay, at least let me grovel, Sam? Sam?"

Beep.

"Damn it, Sam, pick up the freaking phone!"

Beep.

"Major Carter, if you don't answer this damned phone NOW, I swear I'll have you scrubbing out latrines in Alaska for the rest of your life!"

Beep.

"God, Sam, _please_ ignore that! I didn't mean it! I had no right to threaten you – it's just… GOD, Sam, don't leave! The SGC still needs you! SG-1 needs you! _I_ need you!"

Beep.

"Carter, if you're there, please talk to me."

Beep.

"Or, if you're not there – well, first, I'm sorry for being an ass on the answering machine as well as the last few days – and second, please call me when you get home."

Beep.

"Why are you doing this, Sam? You're the smartest person I know…which is one of the things I love about you –" cough "– so please don't go. Who else will laugh at my stupid jokes?"

Beep.

"Knock, knock…" sigh "…Sam, you _were_ threatening me with resignation earlier, right? I thought you were. Don't do it, Sam. Please. We need you. So Badly."

Beep.

"Hey, what the hell were you doing at my house anyway? You used the key, didn't you? Does the meaning of privacy mean _anything_ to you? It's your own damned fault if you got hurt! I was trying to protect you! DAMN it, Sam, I –!"

Beep.

"What the hell was I saying? It's not your fault, of course it wasn't. It never was. It's just…that room was so frustrating, after so many years… I mean… Just… Ugh, I can't do this over the phone. I'm coming over there."

_You have 7 new messages from 456-905 Unidentified_

Beep.

"I'm on my way, Sam. I need to talk to you. You have to understand…I need to explain."

Beep.

"I'm…ah…sorry…for being a, well, an asshole. I did things you didn't – don't – deserve. I really am screwed up, huh?" nervous chuckle "Well, I guess…I'll see you…soon."

Beep.

"Heh, uh, is it just me or is this drive especially long? Oh, eh, sorry, I'm…well, I have to see you. Quickly. To apologize. In person. It's just not the same on an answering machine. I should throw myself at your feet, or som –"

Beep.

"Heh…well…um, it's…ah…it's me again. It's a funny story…really, it's a…funny…story. You see, I was on my way to see you when I…well, I…I ran out of gas! Heh…sooooooo, I won't be at your place for –"

Beep.

"Sorry, but your machine cut me off…so, I won't be there for another hour, at least. I'll walk, and pick up the truck, later. You _are_ at home, right? Probably screaming, 'Get the freaking hell away! Stop calling!' – I would be, too. At ME, I mean! I woul –"

Beep.

"I was gonna say, I would totally answer the phone if you called. So, just give me a ring…I meant a TELEPHONE call – I wouldn't expect you to, you know, give me _that_ kind of ring…I never said sorry to you about the Paul thing, did I? Well, sor –"

Beep.

"Sorry. I'll be there soon. Love you. Jack."

Beep.


End file.
